


what's so bad (about growing up?)

by visiteroda



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental Coming Out, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Developing OT3, Domestic Fluff, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Established Niall Horan/Zayn Malik - Freeform, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Married Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, OT5 Friendship (One Direction), because that's all I write apparently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29800563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visiteroda/pseuds/visiteroda
Summary: Harry walks into his classroom on Friday morning – iced coffee in hand to replace the tea he would normally be drinking, if only because Louis refuses to buy coffee – right as the last bell rings.One of his bolder students, Leeroy, raises his hand, “Sir, are you… are you hungover?”
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan/Zayn Malik, Niall Horan/Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	what's so bad (about growing up?)

**Author's Note:**

> title from parking lots by told slant it doesn't fit perfectly but it fits well enough

Harry grins to himself from his place on the couch as he hears the front door of the flat slam open. He glances up in time to see Niall’s mad dash for the takeaway bag and hear Zayn’s distracted grunt of a hello as he swipes paint onto the canvas he has set up in the corner of their living room. He counts to three in his head, catching Louis’ eye and mouthing _‘three, two, one, now’_ as Liam begins his daily irate clucking over the mark Louis undoubtedly left on the wall with the doorknob.

The five of them have been living together for almost six years and he still feels a rush of domestic happiness just hearing them coexist together. His three best friends and his Lou. What could make him happier?

Well, his students not asking about his non-existent wife would be a good start. He had assumed that they wouldn’t notice his wedding ring given the sheer number of rings he wears anyway, but his students are surprisingly perceptive. He hasn’t given them any details about his marriage, though – despite their persistent questions and much to their chagrin. They would far prefer him to be as forthcoming with his personal life details as some of the other teachers were. ( _Cough, Niall, cough.)_

The students of Holmes Chapel high school like nothing more than gossip.

It’s not that Harry is ashamed of being married to Louis. Of course not – and Louis isn’t ashamed either – it’s just that keeping his relationship status under wraps is just far more convenient. He can deal with a few well-meaning questions about his heterosexual marriage if it meant that he gets to keep Louis all to himself. Besides, it’s none of their business what their teachers get up to outside of school hours.

*

Harry is aware that his life isn’t exactly conventional. Most married men at age twenty-six live alone with their partner, not in an almost-too-small apartment with their partner and three friends. But Harry loved living with Zayn, Niall, and Liam. Louis did too. And it’s not like he and Louis are the only couple, anyway. Zayn and Niall don’t seem to have any plans to move out on their own anytime soon either, and besides, Harry and Louis have already noticed that Liam joins them in their bedroom more nights than not at this point. It’s only a matter of time before the three of them call a spade a spade and start actually dating.

But sure, still living with the same people you’ve been living with since university is probably a little odd to the outside world. Not to mention that they all work at the same high school. Honestly though, it makes getting to work super easy in the mornings, so there are swings and roundabouts in Harry’s mind.

Harry has been a teacher at the high school for three and a half years, just a year less than Louis, Zayn and Niall, and a year longer than Liam. He teaches English to the year tens, elevens and twelves and history to the year nines and tens. He likes to throw as many books with queer subtext into his curriculum as he can, it’s like a sport to see how many he can get under the principal’s radar. Louis teaches drama, he has one class for each year level, the same set-up as Zayn, Liam and Niall.

(Zayn teaches art, with both a general course and a specialised painting course, Niall is the resident music teacher and Liam teaches maths and P.E.)

The five of them are known around school for being best friends and being cheekier than any teacher really has the right to be. So, yeah, Harry loves his job.

“Come get yer food, arseholes,” Niall calls from the kitchen.

Harry pushes his laptop off of his stomach, letting the essay from one of his favourite students that he was marking fall, forgotten, onto the couch. He wanders over to Louis first, pulling him into a light kiss before taking his hand and walking into the kitchen. He pretends not to see the gentle, loving nudge Liam gives Zayn to drag him away from his latest masterpiece of oil paint fumes and stretched canvas.

Niall has dished their food up onto plates – with a plate of shared food that they all enjoyed ready to be placed in the centre of the table – in an effort for them to appear more put together and responsible than they actually are. It doesn’t change the fact that this is their second take out meal of the week, but hey, it’s Wednesday. They have the rest of the week to cook at home.

The five of them sit around their cramped dinner table, elbows knocking together as they eat.

“Lads,” Louis begins, taking a sip of his beer before continuing, “what say we go out tomorrow night? Get pissed like we’re still in university?”

“I say we do, old chap,” Harry replies, loudly. Sometimes, when Louis gets bored, he’ll start talking as incredibly posh as he can, and he expects the rest of the boys to respond in kind.

Harry is almost always the only one to humour him.

“Lou, tomorrow is Thursday, not Friday,” Liam tells him.

“Yeah, I know, but if we’re hungover it’ll be _Friday_. No one cares on Friday. And besides, I don’t feel like waiting.”

Zayn rolls his eyes but hums his easy agreement. Niall cheers, before clinking his beer bottle with Louis’ own, the condensation flying off the necks and splattering their fingers. Liam nods finally.

Sorted, then.

“I’ll have to get my marking all done tonight, then. I’m already behind,” Harry says, not able to keep the whine out of his tone, closing his eyes as if it would block the work from his memory. Out of sight, out of mind.

Zayn groans, leaning back in his seat and throwing his head up to stare at the ceiling, “Fuck, same. My kids just submit their drafts for their written research piece, so now I’m going to have to go and read up on all the artists they picked so I can fact check them.”

Niall rubs his back with one hand, clucking his tongue, and twirling his fork through some noodles with the other, “I’m so glad my students don’t have to do a research piece this term.”

Liam turns in his seat to bang his head on Zayn’s left arm. When the four of them looked at him quizzically – Harry only bothering to open one eye – he only has to say one word for them all to murmur sympathetically.

“Folios.”

The maths folios at Holmes Chapel high school are a terrifying thing. Harry still has nightmares of when he had to do his own as a teenager. Ten pages of in-depth research, analysis, and equations. He shudders to think of the marking Liam will have to go through.

“The drafts are due next Monday.”

It’s quiet around the table for a few moments, the only sound being the clinking of silverware against ceramic.

“Just to clarify, we’re definitely getting hammered tomorrow?”

“…Yes, Lou.”

“Obviously.”

“Yeah, love, ‘course.”

“Bloody well better be.”

*

The music thumps loudly in Harry’s ears. It’d be too loud if he wasn’t so drunk, but he is, so it isn’t. He’s on his third round of a drink he isn’t sure the name of but knows it tastes like watermelon, vodka, and sweetness. Not to mention the four shots of tequila the five of them did right after getting in. He giggles to himself, blinking slowly to clear his blurry vision so that he can search the dark, hazy room for Louis.

He wants to dance!

He finally spots his husband dancing with Zayn and Liam. He pouts. _That won’t do._

Stumbling his way over, he shouts to the three of them over the deafening music, voice slurred, “Where’s Niall? Lou, dance with me! Liam, Zayn, go find Niall, Lou is mine to dance with!”

Louis grins at him, taking him into his arms, their hips slotting together filthily, naturally, easily. He leans up to whisper into his ear, his own voice just as slurred as Harry’s, “Alright, love, let’s dance then.

The two of them dance for what feels like hours. They lose track of Niall, Zayn and Liam – not that they knew where Niall was to begin with – as they move together through song change after song change.

Then, “Mr. Styles? _Mr. Tomlinson?”_

Harry pulls out of Louis’ embrace and turns blearily in the direction of the yelled voice. His eyes take a few seconds to focus, due in part to the low light but mostly to the copious amounts of alcohol he has consumed.

One of his third block English students is standing in front of him, a disbelieving look on her face.

“…Veronica? Veronica M.? What’re you doing here, aren’t you seventeen still?”

“It’s my eighteenth birthday,” Veronica replies, gesturing to the drink in her hand airily, “what are you two doing, is the more interesting question. Methinks your wife is completely fabricated, Mr. Styles, or maybe, just maybe, your wife is actually your _husband_ and your _husband_ is one Mr. Tomlinson.”

Ah. Harry remembers why he likes her, now. She’s funny. He nods before he can stop himself, the truth coming loosely, aided by the alcohol.

“Look, Veronica was it? We’d really rather you keep this to yourself, yeah? Our personal life is none of your – you and your peers, that is – business,” Louis says, words coming out slow and measured as he attempts to appear sober.

Harry grins at her goofily, just happy that he didn’t have to deny his and Louis’ relationship, and stays quiet.

“Yeah, ‘course, Mr. T, don’t have to tell me that. Keep your secrets, if you don’t tell my parents I went out to a gay club for my birthday.”

Louis laughs loudly and shoos her away with a promise of his own. He turns back to Harry, a glint in his eye that Harry always love to see.

“Now, where were we?” He says, before pulling Harry down by the neck and crashing their lips together.

*

Harry walks into his classroom on Friday morning – iced coffee in hand to replace the tea he would normally be drinking, if only because Louis refuses to buy coffee – right as the last bell rings. He’s later than he has ever been, since starting his tenure at the school. His sunglasses are still perched on his nose, blocking out the harsh sunlight of the early Monday morning. He takes a seat at his desk, falling heavily onto the wheely chair, and surveys his students quietly for a long moment.

He pushes his sunglasses to the top of his face, holding his long hair back from his face. His eyes are slightly red and puffy from a lack of sleep, and he has dark circles evident against his pale skin.

“Alright, kids, I won’t lie to you,” He says, voice even deeper and slower than usual, “I really don’t want to do any teaching today.”

The students look at each other, brows furrowing and whispers of confusion ramping up.

“So,” Harry claps his hands together, and then winces at the loud noise, “we’re all going to sit quietly and watch a film, any film you like, as long as you keep the chatter to a minimum and the lights off. Any questions? Requests?”

One of his bolder students, Leeroy, raises his hand, “Sir, are you… are you hungover?”

“…Yeah. But, like, you get to watch a film instead of doing work so- I won’t tell if you don’t?”

Harry plugs his computer into the projector before turning it on. He powers on the laptop, and promptly slams the lid closed when he sees the lock screen.

It’s a picture of the five of them at the beach. Harry and Louis are kissing in the foreground, bare chests pressing firmly against one another. Harry’s arms are around Louis’ neck, and Louis’ around Harry’s waist, his hands resting on Harry’s bum. Zayn and Niall are hanging off of Liam, one on either side. Zayn is wearing black shorts, sunglasses, and a bitchy expression. His mouth is open. Harry remembers that he was telling Niall to ‘ _Fuck off, I’m not going near the water’._ Niall had a shit eating grin on his face, and was ruffling Zayn’s hair, while his arm was looped around Liam’s neck.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

“I don’t think that closing the lid turned off the screen, sir,” a quiet student, Marcel, says from the front row.

“Fuck, shit, fuck.”

Harry opens the computer again to the merry tune of teenage whispering and laughter, and just bites the bullet. He types his password in quickly, hiding the background – which was, of course, the same image as his lock screen – with his movie folder.

“Pretend none of you saw that, okay? Pick a film.”

*

“Lou, I can never work there again.” Harry whines, throwing an arm over his face dramatically.

Louis runs his fingers through Harry’s curls, making shushing noises softly, “it’s okay, love, they had to find out sooner or later.”

“I know, but it was so _embarrassing._ They saw all my tattoos. One of the girls said she wanted to lick my laurels. It was _uncomfortable._ ”

“…I want to lick your laurels.”

“You can lick my laurels anytime, honey, that is beside the point.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. At least Zayn, Niall and Liam weren’t so obviously a couple? Throuple? Whatever the fuck they are?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Harry pouts. Louis kisses the pout right off of his lips, slipping him the tongue for a few long moments.

“It’s okay, baby.”

*

(Zayn, Liam, and Niall all gang up on Harry that night and make him do all the dishes as penance. Louis almost feels bad enough to help. Almost.)

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment + let me know what u thought (kudos is also appreciated !)
> 
> also if i drop back to past tense at any point pls tell me i struggle with tense so bad


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